


On the Wire

by SierraNovembr



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Hospitals, M/M, Mission Fic, POV Steve Rogers, Seizure, WinterIronShield Bang 2019, slight Natasha/Okoye if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 08:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17763044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SierraNovembr/pseuds/SierraNovembr
Summary: When Natasha gets a phone call from an old acquaintance, it’s a race against time to stop a catastrophe.





	On the Wire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StrivingArtist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrivingArtist/gifts).



> This is a submission for the WinterIronShield Bang (2019). The phenomenal art is by [striving-artist](http://striving-artist.tumblr.com/). It has been the BEST fandom experience, working with her! (See the end note for the epic backstory to this fic).
> 
> Big thank you to [mephestopheles](http://mephestopheles.tumblr.com/) for the beta!

Bucky’s hands shifted along the lit array of quinjet controls. Steve let his body relax, eyes focused on the movement. Bucky’s flesh hand was dirty, soil and a hint of blood coated the backs of his knuckles. The metal hand gleamed, the fingers dexterous and smooth. Tony had really outdone himself when he replaced Hydra’s arm with sleek Stark tech. It was a work of art, and Steve felt a lazy heat start to pool in his stomach. He took a deep breath and settled further into the comfortable cockpit chair. He was tempted to close his eyes, to picture again those fingers on his skin, skipping down his chest. Or, on _Tony’s_ skin, gentle but firm on their genius’ hips. Steve exhaled slowly.

Bucky chuckled. “You gonna make it back to the tower there, Stevie?”

Steve just hummed a non-committal reply. He sent some of his attention back to the main cabin, listening to the bright sound of Tony laughing at Clint. Everyone’s spirits were high after a mission that had gone off without a hitch. Clint had the worst of it, with scrapes to his jaw and nose that Laura Barton had probably already smeared with antibacterial ointment. The quinjet had barely reached their cruising altitude after leaving the archer at his family’s farm and he was already on the phone with Tony, jokingly begging them to turn around again.

“No, bird-brain. You’ve feathered your nest, now roost in it!” Tony crowed.

“You don’t understand, man.” Clint’s whine was just audible from Tony’s phone to Steve’s enhanced hearing. “Nate’s resisting his morning nap and it’s _awful_. I know you want to rock my baby to sleep, Tones. You can’t even deny it. Get your iron ass back here.”

“Tempting,” admitted Tony. The man did love children. He made a point to spend time in the orphanages the Maria Stark foundation helped maintain, in addition to his rounds in local children’s hospitals. Steve felt his earlier heat fade in a swell of simple affection and he shared a smile with Bucky.

“Such a sap,” Bucky sighed, mock despairing.

“But no,” Tony continued, laughter still shading his voice. “You’d better do a Christmas card this year, Merida, because I don’t expect we’ll have to see you before then.”

Tony and Clint continued to banter, with an occasional teasing barb from Natasha thrown in. The redhead was relaxed, curled sideways in her seat so she could rest her feet up on Tony’s legs beside her. She had a tiny smile on her face, which widened almost imperceptibly when she caught Steve glancing back at them. It was wiped clean a moment later, when the low buzzing of a phone on vibrate came from her pack. She made a slashing gesture with her hand and Tony cut the call with Clint. His brow furrowed as she silently unfolded from her chair and went over to her bag. A minute’s rummaging, and she came up with a flip phone that made Tony’s face contort in pain. Steve wanted to laugh at him, but the worrying tension in Natasha’s posture was enough to dampen any mirth.

Natasha sent them a telling glance, warning retribution to any man who dared make a noise, and answered the call in a striking English accent. It wasn’t quite as polished, or Steve guessed posh was the word, as Peggy’s beautiful lilt, but it was still very reminiscent. He felt the familiar pang in his chest at the thought of her and gratefully squeezed Bucky’s hand when his boyfriend offered it silently.

“How did you get this number, George?” Natasha asked.

“I need you to come back to D.C., little bee,” said a man. His voice was dark and smoky with just a hint of a Southern accent of some type. Natasha didn’t react to the endearment.

“What do you want?”

“I got a job for you here in town. It’s something a bit urgent, and you’ve always been my go-to girl when it’s a rush job.”

Her nose wrinkled up in distaste. Tony had his phone out, typing furiously. He gave her a ‘keep going’ wave of his free hand when she paused. Natasha breathed a silent sigh and said, “I don’t do that sort of work anymore.”

“You’re breaking my heart, little bee. Can’t I convince you to come in to see me?”

Natasha met Tony’s eyes and he nodded, mouth in a tight line. She briefly flicked her gaze to Steve. She must have gotten what she needed from him, despite Steve’s complete ignorance of the situation, because she agreed to meet with the man on the phone and cut the call a moment later.

Tony’s eyebrows were climbing, and he waited on Natasha while she breathed and worked a thumbnail under the cheap plastic case on the phone. After a moment, she admitted, “One of my grayer aliases. I don’t think what George has in mind is going to help with my ledger.”

“Then we go home,” Tony said without hesitation.

Natasha didn’t look up as she hummed in thought. “The thing is, just because I don’t do this sort of work anymore doesn’t mean it won’t get done.”

Tony jerked his head and said, “No, see, what you _actually_ don’t do anymore is work alone.” He shifted and stood, walking resolutely towards the cockpit.

“Sit down, doll, I’ve already got the new heading from JARVIS,” Bucky drawled. Tony stopped for a single moment, but then continued into the small space, plonking down on Bucky’s lap instead. “That’s not what I meant,” Bucky chuckled, but tipped his head up to catch the slow kiss Tony bestowed on him.

Smiling, Steve extracted himself from the seat harness and went back to where Natasha was glaring at the deck of the quinjet and gently squeezed her shoulder. Her eyes snapped to his, her attention back on her surroundings and out of her head. He gestured to the row of seats and the two of them sat down. Strategy time.

***************

Tony paced in their hotel room. Steve smiled at the way his toes dug into the cheap carpeting whenever he tried to stand still before losing the fight with his restlessness once again. These weren’t exactly Tony’s usual accommodations when visiting Washington, D.C. A laptop hummed away on the desk, surrounded by two tablets, a matte blue cylinder that Steve was assured was also a computer, and the miniature projector, which was displaying the results of Tony’s various searches on the blank wall of the room. Steve’s eyes slid to the painting he’d removed from it earlier, droopy looking poppies not looking any better from this new vantage point.

“Quiet and clear,” Bucky’s voice sounded from the comms for his half hour check in. He was perched somewhere in the vicinity of the squat grey building Natasha had slipped into twelve minutes ago for her meeting with George.

“Gotcha, Buck. I’m ready to go here when Nat gets back to me with a name. Cap’s still sulking.”

Steve scowled at Tony. He wasn’t sulking. Even if he was, Natasha had given him a dead leg which _still_ hadn’t quite gone away, despite the serum, so it wouldn’t be entirely unjustified. Steve didn’t have the benefit of years of hiding his reactions that Tony and Bucky had, and therefore hadn’t been able to stifle his reaction to her current hairstyle, which was some kind of ridiculous bleached undercut. He briefly considered having the appropriate response talk again, but knowing Natasha, that _was_ her idea of appropriate.

Still. Not sulking.

“Back in 10,” Natasha chimed in. There was a quiet thud. “Nice of you to drop in,” she continued. Steve pictured Bucky jumping off the building to join her and he rolled his eyes. Tony dropped a kiss on Steve’s head on his next pass. Steve sighed and pushed himself back into the mission mindset, sitting up straighter on the squeaky mattress.

A few minutes later, Bucky and Natasha were walking into the room. Tony made grabby hands at her, and Natasha produced a folder from somewhere. He took it from her and Natasha smiled her small, pleased smile. She always appreciated the little show of trust from Tony after everything the two had been through. Her smile bloomed into a grin when Tony made a face.

“Why is it made of paper? He gave you a paper file? What is wrong with him?” Tony whined.

“Of course he didn’t give it to me. I stole it.”

Tony gave her a little head bob of acknowledgement and spread the papers out on the room’s second bed.

“Also stole this.” Natasha turned to Bucky, holding up a small pistol. Even to Steve’s eyes, it was pretty.

Bucky frowned. “Aw, now you’re makin’ me admire a German gun?”

Tony pointed his phone at the papers, quickly flipping through them for JARVIS to scan. “Paper file,” he muttered with an eye roll. He turned the last page over and flicked his phone towards the other electronics on the desk. The files were projected on the wall, and additional figures and data popped into existence alongside them as JARVIS flagged important details. 

Steve watched Bucky handle the little gun while the information rapidly scrolled up the wall in the corner of his vision until one word caught his attention. “Arson?” he asked.

“In a hospital,” Tony replied grimly.

“When did it happen? Was anyone hurt?” Steve turned to read more carefully, but Tony had already moved on to hacking, lines of code dancing on the wall until a camera feed activated in the corner of the display.

“Hasn't happened yet,” Tony answered.

“And someone getting hurt is the point,” Nat said. Steve frowned. “I told you it wouldn't help my ledger.” 

“I think you need to tell me what we’re actually discussing here. In dumb soldier talk, not spy code, please.”

“It’s a hit. George expects me to kill the man in that file.” She nodded at the bed. “My target.”

The silence stretched for a long moment before Steve slumped. “Yeah, I was afraid that’s what we were talking about.”

Tony bent to type on the laptop. “Patient records are locked down tight. I can get to them eventually, but it would probably help to have someone go in.”

“Really?” Bucky looked incredulous.

“No, come on.” Tony scoffed and tapped a few buttons on a tablet. A picture of a heavy-set, middle-aged man and a list of information appeared on the wall.

“Christopher Hopkins,” Steve read aloud.

“According to his in-processing notes, he was brought to the hospital after collapsing in a bus terminal and admitted with bronchitis. Looks like he works in pharmaceuticals.” A soft beep sounded from Tony’s phone and he read it. “JARVIS’s sniffing has discovered he received a very large payment recently from an as-yet-unknown source. Thanks, J.”

“So, did he get paid for something or did he get paid off?”

“Dunno.”

“Mob?” Bucky asked.

Nat shook her head. “George was always deliberately unaffiliated with the mafia.”

“JARVIS, see if you can find the end of the money trail.”

“Of course, sir.”

“While he's going down that rabbit hole, I wasn't entirely kidding about someone going to the hospital. Someone with a good job and health insurance doesn’t wait until they collapse before getting bronchitis treated. I’m not convinced that’s what’s really happening here.”

“Think he knows something?” Steve asked.

“Everyone knows something,” Natasha replied with a small tilt of her head.

“Okay, yeah. Nat, you’re our best bet of getting to whatever it might be that he knows,” Steve said. “You and I can infiltrate the hospital.”

Tony made a noise like a game show wrong answer buzzer. “This George guy may have eyes on our patient.”

“It’s a rush job, I’m not sure I’ll have time to do a convincing costume change, and if I am caught doing something other than the job – “ Natasha huffed, frustration evident in the way her eyes tightened at the corners. 

Steve looked at his boyfriends. Tony was one of the most recognizable men on the planet and he had made a habit of visiting hospitals and cheering up patients, especially children. Not Steve’s first choice for sneaking into one of the largest hospitals in the nation’s capital. And Bucky – Bucky had a hard time with hospitals. He’d managed to keep ahold of the shreds of his composure the last time someone (Clint) was injured enough to need treatment in a local hospital rather than the Avengers’ own medical facilities, but he’d been a mess for days afterwards, and Steve just couldn’t trust himself to keep his mind on the mission under those circumstances, let alone Bucky.

“I’ll go myself, then.” Steve nodded. “I remember enough from being in hospitals to fake it if I have to, and I can handle any security or other obstacles that might come up.”

Bucky, who was currently giving Steve the ‘don’t flinch at what I’m about to say’ eyebrow, replied, “The thing is – fire is dangerous, hard to control, and attention-grabbing. It’s an odd request. There are much easier ways to kill someone in a hospital.” Steve swallowed his reaction to Bucky as good as admitting he knew this from experience. Steve was getting entirely too much practice doing so.

“Maybe it’s to ensure that evidence is destroyed?” Steve guessed.

“But if you’re familiar enough with the Black Widow to use cutesie nicknames, you know that’s not a problem she has,” Bucky scoffed.

“Fire kills more than just people.” Natasha’s voice was soft, but it carried through the room like a claxon. 

Steve blinked and Bucky was across the room with his arm around Tony’s waist, clutching him to his side. Tony turned his face into Bucky’s chest, and Steve would swear the older man looked scared. “A bio weapon,” he whispered.

“You’re definitely not going by yourself,” Bucky snapped. “It’s infiltration, Steve. You need backup.”

“Hang on. If it’s some kind of weaponized bug, there’s every reason for me to go alone.”

“Steve! You are _not_ going to – “

“The serum – “

“Maybe you won’t have to,” Natasha interrupted. She was smirking at her phone. “Go put some scrubs on, Cap. I’ll make a call.”

Steve felt his brow furrow and glanced to his boyfriends. Bucky was marginally more relaxed, and Tony had his own phone out. “Oh, yeah,” he said, the quicksilver grin Steve loved flashing over his face. “That would work.”

***************

Steve scowled at the scrubs he had pulled on from the basic disguise kit the Avengers kept stocked on the quinjet. They were the only set in the bag, he’d checked twice. They were mauve. And they were very tight. Not that Steve was unaccustomed to close-fitting garments, but he was convinced that one wrong move would tear these things like tissue paper. He glanced up at the others, trying not to grimace.

Natasha was still tapping away at her phone, but the set of her shoulders clearly implied she was laughing at Steve on the inside. Bucky was outright smirking at him. Tony was – Steve blinked – Tony was slowly turning the color of the scrubs. “Tony?”

Tony let out several garbled sounds that eventually resolved into the words “I may have an unexplored kink.” Bucky let out a bark of laughter and then Tony was launching himself at Steve. Steve caught him instinctually. Tony’s legs wrapped around Steve’s hips and their lips crashed together. Tony was a storm above him, his goatee rubbing delightfully on Steve’s face as Tony gasped a breath and went back for more. Steve kept one hand under Tony, supporting his weight, and reached the other up to tangle in Tony’s hair.

_Rrrrrriiiiipppp._

Steve felt the fabric across his back give way and he jerked his arm back down. Tony pulled back, looking deliciously rumpled. “Wha – oof!” He sputtered as dark fabric landed on his head. Steve managed to lower Tony to the floor as Bucky’s low chuckles filled the room. Steve bent very carefully to retrieve the bundle of fabric that had been lobbed at Tony’s head and by some miracle managed not to tear the pants as well. He picked up a pair of navy blue scrubs that looked to be much more appropriately sized. That was when Natasha broke, her snickering sounding out along with Bucky’s continued laughter. Steve summoned his best deadpan glare for her.

Bucky shook his head slightly and rose from the bed to tug Tony back gently by the arm. “C’mon, doll, let Stevie get changed.”

“I can’t believe you actually put on my scrubs, Steve.” Natasha stopped suppressing her grin. “Your waist is obscene, you know that, right?”

“His waist is a national treasure,” Tony retorted. Bucky muffled another laugh in Tony’s hair.

***************

“You do look unfairly good in these,” Bucky murmured against his lips later. Tony crowded close as well, sneaking his own kisses between checking Steve’s comms and groping his backside. 

“Something to explore when we’re not trying to stop a possible weapon of mass destruction,” Steve promised.

“So, I’ll pencil it in for the Tuesday after never, then?” Tony sighed into Steve’s shoulder. Steve didn’t have a good answer, so he wrapped both his boyfriends up in a final hug.

“You be careful too, ok?” Steve whispered. Tony nodded against him and Bucky reached up to squeeze the back of Steve’s neck. 

“Tick tock, boys,” Natasha prodded gently.

Steve stepped back and cast an appraising eye over his team. Bucky was in his version of stealth armor, fully functional but designed to look like civilian clothing at a casual glance. Natasha, a redhead once again, was similarly prepared with a springy little black dress over her normal tight black uniform. Her widow’s bites were the ones that looked like chunky jewelry. Steve knew they each had several concealed weapons strapped to their persons, but he’d be hard pressed to say how. Tony was dressed down in slacks and a mock turtleneck, but Steve could see the armor honing cuffs at his wrists. 

The three of them had elected to pay a visit to Thallogen Pharmaceuticals, the company that employed the potential victim, while Steve investigated the situation at the hospital. Given the suspicious circumstances of Hopkin’s illness and the recent large payment, investigating the company might be their best hope for understanding why the man attracted the attention of someone like George. They’d had a quick half hour to examine the company’s business profile and the facility blueprints, but that had been all they could spare as the deadline set by Natasha’s contact for dealing with Hopkins loomed.

Bucky swatted at Steve’s backside. “Get your ass on the bike, Stevie.” 

Tony sent him a wink and a kiss. Steve trundled downstairs with a few muttered complaints into the comms and got his ass on his motorcycle as instructed. He kicked it to life, taking comfort in the familiar rumble of the engine that he and Tony maintained together. Traffic was already a problem despite the early hour of the afternoon, and Steve let himself slip into the flow of cars with a sigh, pushing the bike between lanes whenever the opportunity presented itself.

***************

It took Steve twenty minutes to make it to the hospital. He pulled the bike into one of the narrow designated motorcycle spots in the corner of the sprawling parking lot. He tugged the helmet off and scraped his fingers through his hair to get it back into place. His eyes wandered over the facility as he shut off the bike. Large beige buildings squatted in a cluster at the end of the pavement, lurking around a grassy area crisscrossed by paved walking paths between the buildings of the hospital complex, lined with trees. It would be pretty in the Spring or Summer, but now the branches were bare. The chill breeze kicked some of the dried leaves along the ground. Steve eyed the people shuffling along between them, hands in coat pockets and shoulders hunched against the cold. Small benches were set at intervals along the path, and the third one Steve passed was occupied by a black woman in a long maroon coat.

She cocked her head at him and smiled and Steve felt an answering grin spread across his face. “Okoye!” 

“Captain.” She gestured to the bench beside her. “Won’t you join me?”

Steve sat down, tugging his leather jacket tighter around him. Okoye slipped a lanyard over his head. The plastic card at the end of the clip was an employee badge. “Steven Grant,” he read. “That’s not very creative.”

Okoye shrugged. “The mission doesn’t require you to be creative in your alias.”

Steve carefully looked around. No one seemed to be within hearing distance, but he kept his voice low when he asked, “How much did Natasha brief you?”

Okoye reached into her purse and removed a small sphere. She tapped it on the bench and Steve could just make out a hum at the edge of his hearing. He swallowed to pop his ears, but it persisted.

“This will ensure our privacy,” Okoye said, “but if it is too uncomfortable for you – “

Steve shook his head, “No, it’s alright. Just took a second to get used to.” He focused on his companion and tried to ignore the low noise.

She nodded. “The individual you seek is not known to us, however, the company that employs him has been a nuisance since Wakanda has reached out to the world.”

“I’m not sure how to gauge what the head of the Dora Milaje would consider a nuisance,” Steve said.

“They were very interested in certain bio-cultures. Since much of our attention is focused on the potential ramifications of vibranium trade, they likely wouldn’t have reached my notice but for the quantity they were requesting and how determined they were in pursuing it.”

Steve clenched his hands. That certainly didn’t discount the bioweapon theory. 

“When we took more notice of them and started asking questions of our own, all contact was severed. In fact, the whole company went dark. My king had a meeting in your Capital, so it was not difficult to arrange an additional bit of reconnaissance.”

Steve nodded. “So, what’s the plan here?”

“We go in and investigate this Mr. Hopkins. You let me do the talking.” Okoye rolled the small sphere around in her palm for a moment before it disappeared back into her bag. Steve shrugged and agreed.

They walked together into the nearest building. The automatic sliding door swished gently, bringing the smell of cleaning chemicals to them on a current of dry, heater-driven air. Steve turned right and followed the first hallway to a staff locker room, grateful for the straightforward layout of the facility given the limited time he’d had to plan this mission. He hung his jacket and held his hands out for Okoye’s coat as well, putting both in an empty locker at the end of the row.

Hopkins was three floors up and they managed to get an elevator to themselves. “Round your shoulders a bit, you’re an overworked nurse, not a soldier,” Okoye muttered. Her own posture managed to convey boredom and a careful submissiveness. Steve scowled and folded his arms defensively. She laughed. “I guess cranky will have to do.”

The doors opened before he could try adjusting his bearing again, so Steve went with it, summoning all the petulance he could remember from hospital visits before the war and glaring at the cloudy sky through the windows and the tablet Okoye pushed into his hands alike.

He managed to pull up the patient file for Hopkins just as they reached his room. He frowned at the display. “That can’t be right.”

According to the records, Hopkins was dead.

Someone cleared their throat and Steve looked up into the room. A member of the janitorial staff was stripping the bed, a pile of blankets already bundled on the floor.

Hopkins was _gone_.

“I ain’t nearly done yet,” the woman grumbled. She shoved at the pile of sheets to compress them and pulled the end of one towards her. Okoye quickly entered the room and reached to help her.

“That’s alright, sweetie, they don’t really need both of us to take those samples down to the labs, now do they? Grant can take care of it his own self.” Her voice was soft, a sweet, light southern accent that seemed to put the other woman at ease. Steve frowned, about to ask what Okoye was talking about when he spotted two vials on the table. They were rubber-topped, sealed with white patient label stickers and full of dark red blood.

Steve took a few steps into the room and reached out to take the vials, but Okoye was faster again. She snatched them up in a containment bag he hadn’t even seen her obtain and sealed it with quick, efficient movements. She passed it to him and turned back to the task of bundling the bedding.

Steve stood for one more moment, but her irritated huff had his feet moving before he could earn himself a glare as well.

***************

Steve tucked himself away in an empty room two floors down. It would take Okoye a few minutes to finish helping with Hopkins’ former room. He turned on his comms to catch the rest of the team in the middle of a conversation.

“ – handle it. He’ll just be cranky to miss it.” Bucky’s voice sounded in his ear, and Steve smiled.

“Who’s gonna be cranky?” Steve asked.

“Hey, Cap,” Tony chimed in. “Were your ears burning?”

“Fine, why am I going to be cranky?”

“This place is empty, like cubicle ghost town levels of abandoned,” Tony answered. “But JARVIS has done a structural scan and we’re reasonably certain there is a subterranean portion which will be more interesting.”

“Interesting, how?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m not entirely positive that the comms will work.” Tony admitted.

Steve frowned. “Why not?”

Bucky said, “The basement seems to be a giant Faraday cage.”

“Oh, baby, say Faraday cage again,” Tony purred. “No, say conic periapsis!”

“I’ll peri your apsis,” Bucky mock-growled.

“While we’re all sure that Tony could deal with the comm issue, we are concerned with the time constraints,” Natasha picked up the thread for Steve. “Speaking of, you’re early for your check-in.”

Steve sighed, “Hopkins is dead. He was gone before we got here.”

“Do you think this George guy got impatient?” Bucky wondered.

“I didn’t see any obvious foul play, but it’s possible. It’s also possible that whatever he was sick with took him down.” Steve clenched his hands and took a deep breath. “I think you’re right, Nat. We need to get to the bottom of this before things spiral any further. I don’t like the idea of you all out of reach, but time may be too short for anything else.”

“Hey, it’ll be fine, babe,” Tony said. “Three Avengers verses some squishy science techs? No contest.”

Steve couldn’t contain another sigh. “It _should_ go without saying but be careful and try not to get cocky.”

Tony started to make a comment, but it was quickly muffled, and Steve picked up the light sounds of a scuffle and Bucky’s quiet laughter. He pictured Bucky, fond grin in place, grabbing their boyfriend to stop the almost certain comment on Steve’s use of the word cocky.

“Will you be joining us, Captain?” Natasha asked.

Steve shook his head, unable to help the gesture even as he knew they couldn’t see it. “We managed to get blood samples. I need to get them to the Wakandans first. If this is something more than accidental, we’ll need to know what we are dealing with.”

“Understood.” Bucky and Natasha intoned in unison.

Tony laughed, just a little. “Get your spangled pants down here when you can, sweetheart, we miss you all the way across town there.”

“I know. Me, too. Give ‘em hell and I’ll see you soon.”

***************

Just at the edge of his enhanced senses, Steve could hear the vials tapping gently against one another under the false bottom of Okoye’s large purple purse. It was leather and slightly worn, bouncing against her thigh as they made their way out of the hospital. Steve couldn’t help his relieved sigh when the sliding glass doors at the South entrance to the hospital came into view at last. Okoye slanted a look at him.

“I’m allowed to be glad this shift is over,” he pointed out. Fortunately, his snippiness could be normal for a nurse after long hours stuck in the hospital. Bystanders would have no reason to suspect he was getting tired of people insinuating that he was bad at undercover work or worried over his superhero lovers being out of communication range or impatient to get to the punching bad guys portion of the day. He hunched his shoulders as they passed outside into the cold afternoon.

Rather than risk further conversation, Steve stuck to gulping stale coffee from a Styrofoam cup. At least it was hot. He took another swallow to ward off the chill of the wind whipping down the rows of parked cars. Finally, they rounded the last of the occupied parking spaces. Okoye didn’t slow down, walking confidently forwards as the Wakandan jet shifted into view before her.

Steve broke out in a wide grin when he saw the royal siblings waiting for them at the top of the jet’s ramp. T’Challa returned Okoye’s crossed arm salute. Shuri greeted Steve with a punch to the gut. He pantomimed doubling over in pain while the princess fist-pumped in victory. Chuckling, the king turned to Steve and held a hand towards him. Steve eagerly clasped his arm. Both men turned when Shuri huffed in annoyance and made grabby hands at the General. 

“Show me to your containment set up, Princess, and then you may have the samples.” Okoye was unmoved by the teen’s well-practiced pout. With another huff, Shuri headed deeper into the aircraft.

“How did it go?” T’Challa asked.

“He froze,” Okoye tossed back over her shoulder before following her Princess to another part of the ship.

T’Challa sent Steve a look of such commiseration that he couldn’t stop a rueful laugh.

They made their own way back to the main cabin of the jet. T’Challa headed to a low drawer and pulled out a blanket to hand to Steve. “You still look cold, Captain.” Steve reached out for it just as his phone chimed a notification. It took an awkward moment of shuffling, but he managed to accept the incoming video message from Natasha without dropping the blanket or somehow falling on his face. T’Challa’s resulting chuckles cut off abruptly as the image resolved in front of them, projected upward by Steve’s Starkphone.

It was by far the worst video that Steve had ever seen come out of the technology. It took him a moment to recognize that the two figures kneeling off-center in the frame were Tony and Bucky. The first thing Steve noticed was the noise. A rasping noise came from right next to the phone at seemingly random intervals. He squinted harder at the projection. It was partially red-tinted, and Tony seemed to be out of focus and covered in red. He was gripping Bucky’s shoulder and the faceplate was up. Steve could see the way that Tony’s face was set in resolve.

With the snap of dawning understanding, Steve realized that the sound was labored breathing. His chest lurched like he’d taken a blow when Steve further recognized the red as blood on the camera lens. 

“Nat?” Steve asked. None of the figures reacted, and Steve abruptly remembered that they were watching a recording.

“Can we – “ he started, turning to glance at T’Challa. T’Challa made a quick gesture towards his general, just coming back from Shuri’s lab. Okoye slid into the pilot’s chair with a curt nod. Over the sound of the engines purring to life, Steve heard Bucky start to plead.

“Don’t make me, Tony. Don’t make me leave you here.”

“Bucky, it’s a bomb! Your expertise is much more in the realm of detonating these things than disarming. You know this is the way it has to be.” Tony grimaced, eyes wide with fear. 

Bucky moaned a denial.

Tony continued, “A not-insignificantly sized explosive charge is set to distribute this shit, and we saw the data, they’ve managed to stabilize it against heat! We can’t let it go off, it could kill thousands of people.”

Natasha coughed, rough and wet and startlingly loud on the video. The two men turned towards the camera. “Please, Bucky,” Tony whispered. “She needs you now, right now, and you know it.”

A moment passed with the two men staring at each other over a pile of wreckage, before the sharp sound of gunfire rang out from the phone’s speakers. Tony fell backwards with a startled shout. Bucky was on his feet in one smooth movement, and the answering retort of his pistol sounded much louder from just outside the camera’s shaky frame.

Tony sat up, his face streaked with blood but his eyes clear. Steve felt the breath whoosh out of him in relief. “Get her out of here!” 

The video shook more violently as Bucky lifted Natasha, then suddenly the recording stopped.

“Nat? Buck?” Steve whispered. The sudden lack of video projection was disorienting after he’d been so absorbed in the scene playing out in front of him. It took another moment for Steve to understand. “They’re out of the basement!” At least Nat’s phone had to be outside the communications barrier for the video to get through. He fumbled the phone again before letting it just drop to the deck with a clang. He activated his comms and frantically asked JARVIS to connect him.

“Bucky!”

“This ain’t the best time, Stevie.” A loud crack sounded across the comm line, and the softer sound of a body hitting the ground. “You gonna get yourself out here any time soon?” A hiss of pain and a flurry of dull thuds punctuated Bucky’s question.

Steve felt another sharp sting of worry. His team was very much in danger. “Yeah,” he replied. “We’re already en route. Hang in there.”

“Hurry.”

***************

Steve waited at the rear hatch of the jet, shifting slightly to get his armor to sit more comfortably over his shoulders. He flexed his hands behind the shield.

“Damn, I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you thought to pick this up. I’m sure that Shuri has some amazing toys, but I – “ Steve swallowed. “This is what I need right now.” He stroked over the brightly painted vibranium. 

Standing beside Steve, T’Challa nodded. “We had a little time to kill while you were in the hospital. It was no trouble.” The king was twitching between a computer terminal and the rear-facing window. Steve guessed he was just as eager to _be there_ as Steve was himself.

Finally, the facility came into view. The previously empty office building was swarming with armed guards, uniformed in non-descript black tac gear. “Looks like there’s a welcoming committee,” Steve said. “Is that going to be any trouble for you, T’Challa?”

The king shrugged. The Black Panther mask managed to portray perfect feline unconcern. “Diplomatic immunity?”

Okoye snorted as she came to stand beside the two men. She was poised in her Dora Milaje armor, idly swinging her spear. “Let’s go.”

The jet touched down and the three of them burst out of the hatch. Steve sprinted, barreling into the first person he encountered, slamming the shield into the side of the man’s helmet. He went down with a pained grunt, and Steve spun around to meet the next foe. She had the advantage of warning, her gun already drawn and pointing at him. She fired, but Steve was already dodging, and the shot missed. While he was twisting away, T’Challa landed a sharp kick to her temple which took her down. Another guard was thrown back several feet when the handle of Okoye’s spear slammed across his chest.

The three of them continued to press toward the open door of the office building, where Steve could glimpse more fighting. T’Challa and Okoye moved so efficiently together, it was instinctive to move to complement their attacks. Steve felt a jolt of satisfaction through the worry still driving him onward. They made an impressive trio.

Steve made a leap over a fallen guard to clear the doorway. Huge glass windows let the cloudy gray sunlight into a spacious reception area. Most of the fighting seemed to be happening down a hallway to the left. Steve followed the sounds of gunfire, and, more importantly, Bucky cursing. He dodged around enemies now, frantic to get to him. He outstripped the Wakandans, who engaged the group in the lobby in his wake. Steve rounded the corner to a large space filled with rows of cubicles. He finally got eyes on Bucky, surrounded by a knot of more black-clad guards.

“Where the hell are they all even coming from?” Steve blurted. He moved through the helmeted, faceless tide, eyes constantly returning to Bucky while dispatching anyone standing between them. Finally, he broke through to Bucky’s side. Natasha was lying crumpled under a desk a few feet away. Steve sucked in a painful gasp at the blood pooling around her. She was still conscious, clinging to her gun and watching Bucky’s progress.

“Steve.” Bucky was panting, thin trails of blood coating his forehead. “You have to get to Tony. Right now.”

Steve wobbled at the thread of panic he could hear in Bucky’s voice. “Where?” 

Bucky pointed down the row of cubicles. “Stairs. Three levels down.” He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and an exhausted growl. “Follow the bodies.”

***************

Steve burst into the main lab with a clatter of displaced debris. He winced and tried to veer around the second pile of metal scrap in his path. His weight shifted up on his toes as he managed to twist out of the way. Muffled clapping sounded through the room and Steve finally locked eyes with Tony. He was smiling ruefully from an isolated corner of the space.

He wasn’t in the armor. The lab was in chaos, bodies and broken equipment strewn about on the floor, and Tony was there in his faded jeans and a stained T-shirt, looking like he’d just come up from the workshop and was about to tease Steve over his dramatic entrance and then badger him into making them lunch. His hair was all mashed to one side except for one rogue curl. He was so adorable and so _Tony_ , utterly incongruous here and Steve’s _everything._

Steve sucked in a sharp breath, lungs still catching up with his frenetic race through the facility. “The bomb? Tell me you shut it off.”

Tony nodded, face closing off behind a serious mask. “I shut it off.” His voice came through a small intercom in the ceiling.

Steve’s shoulders dropped. “Alright. Let’s get back up top and get someone from SHIELD in for clean up.” Steve started towards Tony only to stop abruptly. Tony was watching him from behind a large clear barrier, like the floor-to-ceiling windows in the penthouse, but this stuff looked bullet-proof. Not that the penthouse windows weren’t, but this looked it, thick and slightly opaque. Steve shook his head and started looking around for the way through.

It became obvious fairly quickly that Tony must have gotten in through another part of the room. Steve looked back to see Tony eying him with a sad pinch to his mouth.

“Tony,” Steve said slowly. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I can’t. The room doesn’t seal from the outside. Engineered safety protocol, don’t want anyone to be locked in accidentally.” He laughed a little dismally, “Who knew terrorists would be sticklers for safety.”

“So leave it unlocked, we’ve got them under control until SHIELD gets here. You can guard the device from out here. We can both keep an eye on it. Tony, please,” Steve heard his voice turn pleading, the longer Tony was on the other side of that damned glass, the worse the feeling in his gut was screaming at him. Something was very wrong.

“It’s hermetically sealed, you know. Keep everything right in here. It’ll keep everyone safe.”

“You said you disabled the bomb.”

“I disabled the bomb. There won’t be an explosion, but there is an aerosol failsafe which I can’t turn off.” Tony took a deep breath. “It’s gonna spray whatever they’ve been cooking up here and since we don’t know exactly how bad that will be – “ He shrugged. “I can’t risk contaminating D.C., Steve. We can’t do that.”

Steve swallowed his urge to panic. “Where is the suit, Tony? Why aren’t you in the suit?”

Tony sighed. “Bastard got a lucky shot in, damaged the faceplate. It won’t seal.”

This couldn’t be happening. 

“Goddammit, Tony!” Steve whirled around to kick at a filing cabinet, frustration burned in his throat as he took several quick paces away from Tony, away from what he was telling Steve. Three quick strides had him back again, as close to Tony as he could get right now. “Let me in!” 

“No can do, Captain. You know I – “

“We can get containment on it! SHIELD will take care of it!”

“And if they can’t get here in time? Do you know what the lethality of this stuff is? I don’t! They were clearly going for maximum damage, Steve! It’s a safe bet that people will die if it gets released and I WILL NOT be responsible for that, not when I can stop it.” Tony yelled, flushed and angry and near to tears.

“Why does it have to be you? I could – I – the serum! Let me seal it up, Tony, please. Please, please Tony.”

“There’s no way to be sure that the serum could take care of it. And the world needs Captain America more than it needs Tony Stark.”

“That’s bullshit, Tony. That’s such fucking bullshit. Get out here. Now.”

Tony took a huge breath, closing his eyes for a moment to regain his composure. “There isn’t time, Steve. I won’t risk it.”

Steve could barely breathe, knowing that it was useless, but unable to accept it, even when Tony shook his head again.

Nothing about this situation was acceptable. Steve _would not._ Except…

“Steve.”

Except that he _had to_. Tony wasn’t wrong about the risks, especially to the vulnerable among the civilians. Steve thought about the sick kids they had visited in the hospital just last week. The image of Tony in the NICU flashed through his mind like a lightning strike.

Steve balled his hands into fists, feeling the leather creak as it stretched across his knuckles. He tried to meet Tony’s eyes, but it was too hard. He was much less likely to start screaming or punching things if his attention was drawn to the way the thick glass between them was scratched and filmy, rather than watch his boyfriend say...

“Steve.”

Steve’s breath hitched. Tony’s voice, despite being distorted through the intercom, was gentle. If he was afraid, he was hiding it well, probably for Steve’s sake.

“Look at me, honey, please.”

Steve’s eyes finally snapped to Tony, helpless to follow that command. Tony’s face was a little bloodied, sweat on his brow and dirt mixed with the streak of red on his cheek. His eyes were bright, burning with the determination that Steve had come to know so well.

“You don’t have to stay, love,” Tony continued, not dropping Steve’s gaze for an instant.

Steve wanted to flinch from those words, but instead he drew his face up into his best Cap-is-disappointed-in-you expression. From the way Tony’s mouth softened into a smile, Steve knew that was what Tony was really angling for with that bit of idiocy. 

Tony quirked his eyebrow up and said, “Well, I had to try, didn’t I?” He licked his lips and squared his shoulders before stepping closer to the glass. Steve mirrored his movements, wishing beyond anything that he could just make it that small distance between them, that he could reach in and drag Tony out of there, keep him safe.

Tony took a bracing breath and said, “Take care of Bucky, honey. I don’t think he’s going to forgive me.”

Steve didn’t hear the dispersal mechanism release, even his hearing wasn’t that good, but he saw the way Tony flinched, watched the whitish gas billow out of the cannister. He couldn’t help thinking, inanely, that it should have made the little click-hiss that was so familiar to him after too many of Clint’s action movie marathons. He felt strangely robbed.

Tony suddenly brought his hand up, pressing it against the thick barrier in front of him. “I love you, Steve Rogers.” He licked his lip and let out a carefully controlled breath. “It was worth it.”

Steve pressed one hand against the glass from his side. He choked, a ball of fear and pain and denial lodged in his throat. He opened his mouth to say it back but couldn’t get any words out. Panic slammed through him, reducing him to the blur of tears and the sound of the thin whine leaking out of him.

He watched, helpless, as Tony curled his middle and ring fingers down with the others held straight, forming the signed declaration of love against the glass. Steve stared at those fingers and forced himself to take a breath. It was shaky, but he _had to_ , he had to tell Tony again before - 

Steve looked up. Tony’s cheeks were streaked with tears and his own breathing was ragged. Steve inhaled and - 

Tony’s eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped to the ground like someone had cut his strings. Steve locked up, each muscle straining. He felt the tendons standing out in his neck as he screamed his pain and short, panicky denials. “NO! No, no, no, Tony, please, no.”

[](http://striving-artist.tumblr.com/post/182775380657/on-the-wire-when-natasha-gets-a-phone-call-from-an)  
Art by [striving-artist](http://striving-artist.tumblr.com/)

He sunk to the ground, one hand still on the glass, and the other gripping the shield so tightly the straps were in danger of snapping. The world greyed out at the edges, and Steve gasped between repeated pleas. Tony was twitching, limbs moving spastically. Steve couldn’t see his face.

[](http://striving-artist.tumblr.com/post/182775380657/on-the-wire-when-natasha-gets-a-phone-call-from-an)  
Art by [striving-artist](http://striving-artist.tumblr.com/)

Over the sound of his own harsh breathing, Steve became aware of pounding footsteps, rapidly getting closer. He started to stand, twisting to face their source, when a booted foot came down on his ribs in a vicious kick. He felt the air whoosh out of him, pain radiating through his chest in its wake, and he crashed back to the floor. The mixture of surprise and pain was enough to disrupt his grip on the shield, and it was yanked out of his hand a second later. Steve’s head snapped up to follow the shield’s path and froze when he found himself staring down the barrel of a familiar gun.

[](http://striving-artist.tumblr.com/post/182775380657/on-the-wire-when-natasha-gets-a-phone-call-from-an)  
Art by [striving-artist](http://striving-artist.tumblr.com/)

Steve instinctively tried to make himself non-threatening, let his shoulders relax, curled his hands loosely on the floor. Bucky glared at him from behind the shield he’d appropriated, jaw clenched and lips trembling minutely. Despite his obvious distress, the gun didn’t move so much as a millimeter. Steve rolled his own lips between his teeth and tried to hold on to his patience, not willing to disturb their standoff first.

“Swear on your mother you’re not gonna try an’ stop me, Steve, or I will shoot out your knees right now an’ do it anyway.” Bucky’s voice was strained, like he was trying to hold on to his menacing persona, but it was cracking around him.

He shouldn’t. Tony would never forgive any of them if civilians were hurt to save him. It might even have been too late. Bucky’s finger shifted to the trigger. His eyes were set, cold. Steve always suspected that, for Tony, Bucky would do more than watch the world burn. He would ignite it himself without a second thought. Steve – 

Steve couldn’t fight Bucky. He felt weak, hollowed out, strangely distant. In an instant, Steve’s resolve disintegrated, and Bucky read it in his face. The gun disappeared. Bucky brought the shield down on the barrier, grunting with the effort. His face was contorted in rage and grief. With a sharp snapping sound, a crack formed in the glass. Steve scrambled to his feet, kicking at the weakening section in time between Bucky’s blows. The glass gave way in a shower of fragments.

Buck was through in the same heartbeat, shards tumbling down over his back. He knelt at Tony’s side. His hands were steady as they turned him over and checked for pulse and respiration. “Not breathing,” he said, steady tone and normal speaking volume striking as _wrong_ to Steve in this dire situation.

Bucky started rescue breathing. Steve reached out with shaking hands to feel Tony’s pulse for himself. It was there, fluttering and tripping along, and Steve felt himself exhale in time with Bucky’s breaths. Time crawled. One part of Steve’s brain was helplessly counting the beats under his fingers. The rest of his thought processes seemed to be suspended. Nothing existed beyond the pause between Bucky’s steady breaths, the agonizing wait between beats.

The hands batting aside his connection with Tony startled him so badly he shouted and lashed out. T’Challa ducked his punch and jammed a syringe into Tony’s neck. He pressed the plunger down while Steve was still reeling from the king’s sudden presence.

“Come. We must get him out of here.”

“What was that?” Steve screeched. 

Both men ignored him. Bucky bent to lift Tony’s body when the man let out a choked gasp and a moan. He was breathing! Steve felt each painful inhalation like a vice around his own chest. Bucky waited only for T’Challa’s quick nod of permission before he moved, scooped Tony up and ran for the door. T’Challa offered Steve a hand up, and as he pulled Steve to his feet he apologized. “I am sorry, Captain. Time is of the essence.”

“I know.” Stopping only to retrieve the shield, he followed his quickly retreating boyfriends, T’Challa at his side.

The damage to the hallways was more extensive than just a few minutes prior, and Steve found himself having to jump over new rubble piles and stumbling over the uneven ground. The serum and his reflexes kept him from falling or slowing much, but each tiny delay wound him up further. Frustration at the terrorists, at Tony, at his own helplessness built in his chest even as he sprinted through the lobby to see the Wakandan jet just ahead.

Steve ascended the ramp for the second time in less than two hours, but there was nothing of relief or teasing now. They slowed only when they reached the door to Shuri’s miniature lab space, repurposed into a small infirmary area. Along one wall, Okoye hovered over a stretcher, hands pressed firmly into a steadily-leaking wound in Natasha’s stomach. Bucky lowered Tony onto a slightly raised platform in the main space. Two quick taps on the lit screen caused a wave of dark particles to flow up around Tony, eventually holding him cradled at the perfect height for Shuri to examine him. Lights on the displays surrounding the space immediately flashed red with a variety of warnings. 

Nothing else happened for a long moment. 

Steve looked around in the sudden stillness and found his attention drawn to Shuri, who was frozen in the center of the small space. Her arms were full of bandages, and her eyes briefly skittered to Natasha before she turned back to Tony.

Tony made a horrible gurgling noise and Steve felt his stomach turn when he noticed the trail of blood running down from the corner of Tony’s mouth. In a blink, Steve was standing shoulder to shoulder with Bucky, gripping his hand and staring down at Tony. Blood trailed from his mouth and nose, and, Steve gasped, his eyes.

Shuri shook her head, fear flashing across her face. She took an involuntary step away from the three of them.

“Shuri!” T’Challa called, but Okoye was faster. The older woman was at her side in an instant, gently but quickly removing the bandages from her arms. She turned and set them at Natasha’s side. Natasha nodded at her with a grimace and grabbed one to hold to her stomach. Okoye turned back to Shuri and met her eyes. “Princess, what do you need us to do?”

Shuri’s shoulders squared up and Steve could see the resolve enter her expression. Part of him marveled at just how capable this young woman was, that every person in this room, superheroes and leaders all, looked to her in this, the most dire of situations, but Tony was still breathing with difficulty, and it was taking a great deal of his self-control not to shout at someone to do something. He swallowed the urge and held tighter to Bucky’s hand.

“Brother, we will need to return to the hospital. Stark will need all my attention, and Natasha should be safe in their care.” Shuri said, voice confident, but she still took a moment to meet Okoye’s eyes. The general nodded and returned to Natasha’s side. Nat grunted in pain when the other woman took over holding pressure on her wound once again.

Steve felt himself shudder at the sound, and he blurted, “I don’t want to leave her alone, though.”

“Who ever said that she would be alone?” Okoye turned her head only far enough to display an unimpressed eyebrow. All at once, Steve noticed Natasha’s hand wrapped around Okoye’s wrist.

Tony seized, a full body spasm that caused sympathy pain to bloom in Steve’s muscles. Helplessness surged up in Steve’s chest, bitterness coating the back of his tongue. His heart was lying on this table, stuttering and fading.

“Do something!” Bucky growled.

Steve took a deep breath and tugged on Bucky’s hand. Neither of them moved an inch while Shuri burst into motion. She activated a small tablet she had produced from somewhere and a burst of light radiated from the ceiling. Steve vaguely recognized it as scanning equipment. Shuri snapped on a pair of gloves, pulled a mask over her face and tucked her hair under a wrap before the lights dimmed again and she was absorbed in the results on her display.

“We have to keep him stable until he can have the second dose of antidote,” Shuri stated, her eyes never leaving the data scrolling in front of them. She snapped her fingers. “Bucky, you will need to hold him still. Captain, with me, please.” 

The hours that followed were the longest in Steve’s life. They were a disconcerting mixture of somewhat bearable tension and pure panic. It felt like the worst moments of the war, when he had to keep it bottled up, keep going, but without the promise of punching Hydra to look forward to. Steve did his best to not look forward at all, the possibility that he could still lose everything lingered and Steve hadn’t managed to draw a full breath in so long.

Gentle fingers brushed the back of his neck, and Steve was reminded of the war in one other very important way. Bucky was here. He was another set of hands to clean the blood from Tony’s face and apply a salve to the raw inside of his mouth. He was a support when Steve’s knees went out the one time Tony’s heart briefly stopped beating. He was a point of focus for Steve to offer his own comfort and strength.

When it was over and Tony was finally resting with the full course of the antidote running through his veins, Bucky was beside him, two survivors of a shipwreck of emotions, storm-tossed and weary.

***************

The heart monitor pulsed out a blip of light at a regular rate, and Steve took comfort in each little burst of illumination. 

For the first few hours of Steve’s vigil at Tony’s bedside, he had been grateful that the Wakandan jet was much more comfortable and private than the hospital would have been. The surrounding equipment was far more technical than medical in nature, and Steve knew Tony would appreciate it when he woke up. He would also appreciate the spacious modified bed he had been placed on for his recovery. As the time dragged on without a change in Tony’s condition, however, Steve’s gratitude at the novel surroundings was no longer sufficient distraction from the reality of the situation.

Tony had nearly died. Steve would have let Tony die rather than risk the spread of the contaminant. The only reason he still had Tony here with him is because Bucky wouldn’t give him up.

When Tony did eventually wake up, Steve was alone at his bedside. Bucky had left to check on Natasha, pitching his intentions somewhere between an offer and a demand. Steve hadn’t bothered to try to talk him out of it, even though they both knew he would be fighting off panic the whole time. Perhaps Shuri’s presence would help mitigate it; the princess had also been making regular trips to the hospital to ensure that the staff knew how to handle any cases that might result from exposure to Hopkins or from Bucky’s breaching the containment in the lab.

“Oh.” Tony’s voice brought Steve back from the half-doze he had slipped into. He sounded mildly surprised. Steve took a deep breath and met Tony’s eyes. They were crimped in pain and his breathing was still shaky, but the relief swamped Steve all the same. “Did – “ Tony started, but had to break off to cough. He managed a hoarse, “The containment?”

Steve handed him a glass of water and told him, “The containment was breached, but Shuri was able to counteract the effects. As far as we know, no one else was hurt.”

Tony sighed and some of the tension left his shoulders. He sank further into the bed and handed the water back. “And Nat?”

“She’s gonna be okay, too.” Steve set the water aside and took Tony’s hand again. “You’re even going to be okay, despite everything.”

Tony shrugged at that, and Steve felt his temper snap. Suddenly he was boiling, and he burst out, “Do you have any idea, Tony? Any idea what it would do to us if you died? You _did_ die. Your heart stopped, Tony. It wasn’t beating anymore, and you were _dead_ \- ” Steve choked.

“Steve – “ Tony trailed off.

Silence permeated the little hospital room for a long moment until Steve found enough voice to croak, “Please don’t do that to us again.” 

Bucky growled an agreement as he rounded the corridor, fury etched into his features. Tony winced and immediately tried to placate him, “Bucky, baby, I had to – I couldn’t – please – “

The rest of his attempts were abandoned when Bucky crossed the small space between them and mashed his lips against Tony’s. The kiss was rough, and Steve almost stopped him, but Tony was relaxed under the assault. His hands came up to stroke along Bucky’s hair and down his back. Bucky made a pained little noise and his face twisted where he was still pressing into Tony. He climbed into the bed. Tony hummed gently and kept his hands gently petting his back. Eventually, Bucky pulled away and tucked his head on Tony’s chest, ear pressed directly over the other man’s heart. His arms wrapped tight around Tony’s body. Tony took a breath to continue speaking, and Bucky nearly growled at him, voice low and shaking, “I am furious at you. You are not allowed to speak to me.”

“Okay, honey, that’s fine. Can I talk to Steve?” Tony whispered. 

Bucky nodded. His eyes were squeezed shut against Tony’s chest and Steve could just hear him grinding his teeth together. Tony soothed him with a hushed word and pet his hair before he turned his attention back to Steve. “It was the right thing.”

Bucky growled.

Tony ran his hand down Bucky’s back, but his voice was firm when he addressed Steve again. “You did the right thing, Steve. We didn’t know, and it was better to protect the city, the people.”

Steve’s eyes were hot and stinging. He tried to believe Tony’s reassurances, but the fact that he _had been wrong_ , that it had nearly cost him Tony, echoed louder in his head.

“I’m proud of you.”

Steve felt the tears fall down his cheeks. It didn’t matter what Tony thought of him. It didn’t matter, because he would never forget the way it felt to be kept apart from Tony like that, how frantic and horrified he would be at the thought of distance between them for a long time. He whispered, “I didn’t get to say good-bye. I would have let you die, and I didn’t even say good-bye.” 

“Honey.” Tony tugged on their linked hands until Steve heaved himself up to his feet. Bucky leaned over and pulled him up onto the now crowded bed. Steve felt weak and rubbery with the emotional overload and let his boyfriends move him. Bucky wiped his tears away with a light touch. Tony whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” The quiet words dripped like gentle rain, soothing despite the hoarseness lingering in that beloved voice. 

The relief and the adrenaline crash combined to bring Steve to the brink of sleep, and he let go. He floated in a semi-conscious state, occasionally jerking his eyes open to check on Tony and find Bucky, watchful and quiet, as well.

The peace, such as it was, was finally broken by Steve’s stomach. A huge, rumbling growl dropped Steve back into his body and let them all know that emotional crises were irrelevant to super soldier metabolisms.

“Shwarma?” Tony asked, hope lighting up his eyes. “Oooh, Moroccan?”

Steve frowned. “It’s not your turn to pick.”

“What?” The hope was replaced with indignation. “Of course it’s my pick! Are we forgetting the bomb? I saved the city _and_ almost died.”

Bucky raised his head just enough to glare at Tony. Steve sighed. “Actually, it’s Shuri’s choice this time.”

Tony chewed his lip and considered Steve’s pronouncement. “But I still saved the city,” he said with a quiet touch of petulance.

“Too bad, honey. She saved our world.”

Tony broke into a soft smile. “I guess she did,” he admitted.

“Good.” The princess stuck her head in the room, “Because I want pho.”

Tony made a face and started to protest, but Bucky shushed him with kisses. Steve nodded to Shuri before taking Tony’s hand in his again. Personally, he liked the sound of pho as well and he knew they’d end up with Moroccan before the week was out, so Tony could deal with it. Considering what she had done for them, Steve was debating buying her an entire restaurant.

Bucky produced a protein bar, and Steve gladly took it, devouring the bland substance quickly. It would buy him a few more minutes here, where he desperately needed to be. He squeezed Tony’s hip and nuzzled into his shoulder. He met Bucky’s eyes once more. Bucky was calm, and alert, and seeing him warmed Steve. They were all safe. He drifted off to the sounds of whispered conversation between the other two, relief pulsing in him in time with two precious heartbeats.

**Author's Note:**

> Story time! I originally started this fic as a gift to Strife, because she is awesome! She was my favorite commenter while I was writing LIaLL and I wanted to do something to thank her. Unfortunately, a combination of real life and motivation shortage put it on the back burner and I never told her about it. Fast forward to the Bang sign-ups and I decided to dust it off and finish it to submit.
> 
> Lo and behold, Strife picked it!! I can't even say how excited I was when I got that claim email. It was so validating that she was drawn to something I created with her in mind. Working with her was great and I had a fantastic time with this event. Please go leave love on her art pieces, they are sheer perfection.


End file.
